you not, tell me where they live?"
"You droll little man, why did you not ask me that before, if you wanted
to know? Finish your wine, and come to the door. There's your change,
and thank you for your custom, though it isn't much. Come to the door, I
say, and don't interrupt me! You're an old man--can you see forty yards
before you? Yes, you can! Don't be peevish--that never did anybody any
good yet. Now look back, along the road where I am pointing. You see
a large heap of stones? Good. On the other side of the heap of stones
there is a little path; you can't see that, but you can remember what I
tell you? Good. You go down the path till you get to a stream; down
the stream till you get to a bridge; down the other bank of the stream
(after crossing the bridge) till you get to an old water-mill--a jewel
of a water-mill, famous for miles round; artists from the four quarters
of the globe are always coming to sketch it. Ah! what, you are getting
peevish again? You won't wait? Impatient old man, what a life your wife
must lead, if you have got one! Remember the bridge. Ah! your poor wife
and children, I pity them; your daughters especially! Pst! pst! Remember
the bridge--peevish old man, remember the bridge!"
Walking as fast as he could out of hearing of the Widow Duval's tongue,
Lomaque took the path by the heap of stones which led out of the
high-road, crossed the stream, and arrived at the old water-mill. Close
by it stood a cottage--a rough, simple building, with a strip of garden
in front. Lomaque's observant eyes marked the graceful arrangement of
the flower-beds, and the delicate whiteness of the curtains that hung
behind the badly-glazed narrow windows. "This must be the place," he
said to himself, as he knocked at the door with his stick. "I can see
the traces of her hand before I cross the threshold."
The door was opened. "Pray, does the citizen Maurice--" Lomaque began,
not seeing clearly, for the first moment, in the dark little passage.
Before he could say any more his hand was grasped, his carpet-bag was
taken from him, and a well-known voice cried, "Welcome! a thousand
thousand times welcome, at last! Citizen Maurice is not at home; but
Louis Trudaine takes his place, and is overjoyed to see once more the
best and dearest of his friends!"
"I hardly know you again. How you are altered for the better!" exclaimed
Lomaque, as they entered the parlor of the cottage.
"Remember that you see me after a l
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